Hours
by Starr Dust
Summary: This process takes several hours, but getting there took much longer. Mylar, Mpreg
1. Part 1

**Title:** Hours  
**Pairing:** Sylar/Mohinder  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, AU, Mpreg, Mild spoilers up to Vol 5 (mainly for Emma)

**December 29, 2007 - 11:45 AM**

Mohinder knew that something was wrong. His whole body had been flushed and tingling ever since he had rolled out of bed. His hands were trembled as he struggled through his morning routine and his mind kept drawing itself back to the feeling of discomfort that spread from the lower half of his stomach into his chest. The feeling came in short bursts, but the sensation was there and it unnerved him.

His eyes instinctively flashed to the clock mounted on his wall, wondering briefly if he should bother going in to work at all. He certainly did not feel up to driving a taxi for nine hours while his stomach turned on him. That was when the pain came again, stronger now and more insistent, as if telling him that these symptoms would not go away.

The geneticist groaned, pushing himself out of his seat and towards the phone resting on top of the small stack of papers on his desk. He knew what was happening even if it all felt so sudden, too soon, and he knew what he had to do to take care of it.

Slim fingers quickly punched in the number that he had memorized by heart. He held his breath, counting the number of rings with mild panic as he waited anxiously for someone to receive his call.

"Hello?"

A wave of relief washed over the Indian geneticist at the sound of his friend's voice. "Peter," he started, his voice trembling slightly with anxiety as he tried to focus on his phone call, and not the way his body was suddenly turning against him. "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to work," the young man said slowly, a slight hint of confusion in his tone.

"Good," Mohinder breathed, clutching the phone in his trembling hands. "Because I need you to take me to the hospital."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other line and Mohinder worried for a second that their call had dropped. "Wh... You mean it's time?" his friend stammered, panic growing in his voice.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "It's time."

**March 24, 2007 - 2:04 PM**

"Leave." Mohinder practically growled the word as he stood there -- body on edge, hands balled into tight fists, and the far too aggressive voice in the back of his head urging him to spring out and attack -- less than a foot between him and the man who had murdered his father.

Sylar smirked, quickly turning his attention away from Mohinder's tense form and gazing absent mindedly at a computer monitor. "I will when you start asking me nicely," he said, a far too cocky tone coloring his words. "What are you working on? A cure for yourself?"

Something inside Mohinder snapped at those words -- which wasn't much of a surprise since he snapped very easily now -- and he suddenly found himself closing the gap between them and punching Sylar square in the jaw. The taller man stumbled backwards, clutching his shattered mandible with both hands as he turned his dark eyes towards Mohinder.

"I told you to leave, so _leave_," the Indian hissed. "This is my lab and I don't want you here!"

The serial killer was quiet as he waited for his face to heal. The sound of bones mending together and being pushed back in their proper place made Mohinder's stomach churn with displeasure.

"Well my father owns this building," Sylar shot back, wiping the blood off of his of mouth with the back of his sleeve. "So I'll go where ever I damn well please."

Mohinder gave out a sharp laugh at that statement. The idea of Sylar being the Petrelli's long lost son was ridiculous to say the least. He wasn't about to even entertain the thought until he saw some hard evidence to prove such a ludicrous statement and he knew deep inside that Sylar didn't really believe it either. Sylar was many things, but -- as reluctant as he was to admit it -- the serial killer was not stupid

"Well daddy isn't here to help you," Mohinder growled, shoving at the larger man's shoulder with just enough force to make him stumble and leave a temporary bruise. "So I suggest you get out of here before I break something off!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sylar flicked his wrist in his direction and Mohinder found himself being flung backwards. The geneticist grunted as his already aching body slammed into a metal filing cabinet, crushing it like a tin can. "I'll leave when I'm ready," Sylar hissed.

The Indian gritted his teeth and got up on his slightly trembling feet quickly. Marching towards the tall American, he found himself wrapping his strong hand around Sylar's neck, slamming the man's back roughly against his desk and...

Dear gods. He didn't remember Sylar smelling this good or his body being so warm or...

The American gave him a curious look, cocking his head to the side before Mohinder bent down and pressed their lips together in a hungry, desperate kiss. Mohinder knew that what he was doing was wrong. He knew he should have just thrown Sylar out of his lab, but he was so lonely. His body was in constant pain, his mind was falling apart, and all of his friends and acquaintances had turned their backs on him. He needed someone, anyone to touch, to feel, to tell him that he was still alive and when he was gone he would be missed and wasn't fate cruel to have that person be Sylar.

The murderer stiffened in surprise at the unusual contact, but he quickly relaxed into his touch. "Oh Doctor," he practically purred when they parted briefly to fill their burning lungs with much needed oxygen. "You are a kinky one. I hope you know there are cameras all over your lab. Someone will see us."

"Let them watch," Mohinder growled, pinning the other man's body underneath him and diving down for another kiss.

**December 29, 2007 - 12:55 PM**

Mohinder frowned as he listened to the recorded message on the other end of the line. It was the sixth time he had tried to call his mother and she still wasn't picking up. He sighed, tapping the phone to his head as he struggled to decide whether he should leave a message or hang up and try again. He felt guilty enough as it was having this child -- her grandchild -- in another country. At that moment he wished more than anything that the woman could be there. He needed her to guide him through this process, to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

The Indian gave another sigh when he heard the brief beep that told him to record his message now. "Mother, it's me," he began. "I'm at the hospital and..." His words slowly faded away as he looked around the cramped emergency room. Peter had left him there while he went to punch in and put his things in his locker and Mohinder suddenly felt very exposed and awkward in the room full of sick individuals. He couldn't blurt out that he was having a baby. The looks he would get... "Just call me back. Please."

As soon as his fingers hit the end call button, he was hit with another burning contraction. Mohinder grunted, screwing his eyes shut and cradling his swollen middle in his trembling hands. He didn't know how he was supposed to do this. He was only in the beginning stages of labor and already the pain was unbearable.

"It's the anxiety," Peter assured him, causing Mohinder to twist around in his seat.

Mohinder quirked a brow at the younger man's statement. "Telepathy?" he asked. Peter usually only borrowed powers that would directly help him with his job and, although reading minds was always a handy trick, he couldn't help wondering when and why he had borrowed that particular ability.

"Figured it would come in handy with your situation," Peter explained. "It'll be easier to communicate with the doctors and take care of all the paper work."

The geneticist nodded his head slowly; understanding creeping into his mind as the contraction slowly subsided. "So you say its anxiety?"

"It increases the natural pain that comes with labor," he told him. "The more anxious you are, the worse you'll feel. Just keep calm and everything will be okay."

"Easier said than done," he frowned, rubbing his stomach in soothing circles. "You're not about to have a human being ripped out of your body."

Peter shrugged, pushing a wheelchair in front of his friend and motioning for him to get in. "No, but I know the people here and I can assure you that you and your baby are in good hands. Now let me take you to your room."

"Not in _that_." Mohinder scowled at the chair Peter was offering him. He could still walk and the idea of taking a wheelchair away from someone who actually needed it did not sit well with him. "I don't need that. I can stand."

"Trust me, Mohinder, you need this," the other man assured him. His words were confident and firm, backed up by his experience and medical knowledge. Mohinder had never seen Peter this sure of himself. It was a bit startling, but he supposed it came with the younger man being in his natural environment. He felt a bit proud of his friend at that moment, even if he was getting on his nerves. "You may feel fine now, but when you get hit with another contraction, your knees will feel weak and your mind will be buzzing with so much pain you won't even remember your name, let alone how your legs function. Now just get in the chair and let me do my job."

Mohinder sighed and did as he was directed, slipping out of his seat and into the wheelchair. A faint blush spread across his cheeks as Peter began to push him towards the elevator.

"I'm putting you in the maternity ward," Peter said. "We might get a few weird looks, but if anybody asks, I'll tell them we were running low on beds and needed to put you in there."

"What about my doctor?" he asked.

"I'll have a friend check in on you," he told him. "She's one of the best doctors we have and she'll take good care of you."

"Is she a surgeon?"

"No, but we'll work something out. You'll need a C-Section so we'll try to find an opened surgical slot and fit you in."

Mohinder sighed, resting his head in his hands as Peter pushed the elevator call button and waited patiently for the door to chime open. "So does it feel strange being a nurse again?" he asked, trying to take his mind off of his situation.

Peter shrugged. He had been a paramedic for a while, believing that he would be able to have a more active position in saving lives, but eventually went back to the nursing field he'd been trained for. "At first it was, but..." He shrugged as the doors eased open and he ushered the two of them inside. "It's sort of like riding a bike. Only took a few days for me to get back into the grove."

"What made you want to make the change?"

The nurse sighed, pressing the button to their floor and brushing his long brown hair out of his face. "Being an EMT was just too impersonal," he said simply. "I mend people, keep them alive until we get to the hospital, then I never see them again. It was too much of a change from hospice care. I just needed to take care of people, you know? Help them through their pain and be more active in getting them back on their feet."

Mohinder smiled, reaching over his shoulder to grab his friend's hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "It's a perfect fit for you," he whispered, allowing the silence to settle on them as they approached his floor.

**June 15, 2007 - 5:15 PM**

Mohinder groaned, as he was suddenly jerked awake by the strange rocking motion that seemed to surround him. His head buzzed and his mouth tasted like cotton. The last thing the Indian man could remember was being surrounded by Danko's men and tasered into unconsciousness. Yet he wasn't in Building 26. He was somewhere else entirely.

He frowned, blinking several times to try to clear the fog that had settled over his sleepy brown eyes. From what he could tell, he was in a car, strapped into the front passenger seat and driving towards the setting sun. He let out another moan, cradling his head in his hands as his heavy lids threatened to slip shut again.

"You're awake?" Mohinder turned his sluggish body towards the unfamiliar voice. He saw a pale skinned man with loose brown curls and sharp blue eyes staring at him before quickly turning back towards the road. "Sorry. This road is kinda bumpy, but it'll pass. Go back to sleep."

"Where am I?" he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep and his mind unable to focus.

"You're safe," the stranger assured him and said nothing else.

"I was... I was attacked," he went on, trying to put the pieces together, but something wouldn't let him. "Danko... Should I be in Building 26?"

"I broke you out."

"Why?" he whispered, slumping back against the seat that just seemed so warm and inviting to his worn out body. "Who... who are you?"

"A friend," he told him, reaching out to stroke his cheek gently before pulling his hand away. "Just go back to sleep."

In spite of all the questions that still swirled in his mind, Mohinder actually found himself drifting off as he listened to the steady rustle of the air condition and felt his body relax to the vibrations of the car.

**December 29, 2007 - 1:30 PM**

Mohinder sighed, caressing his cell phone with the pad of his thumb and staring at the screen desperately. No calls, no texts, no voice mails. Nothing.

"She'll call," Peter assured him, filling out his chart and not bothering to look Mohinder in the eye. "Don't worry about it."

"It is late in India," he sighed, placing the phone on a nearby table. "She might be asleep."

Peter looked over at him then, his wide brown eyes softening with sympathy. "I'm sure that's it," he told him, pulling up a chair next to Mohinder's hospital bed. "If she knew that you were here, she'd definitely call you back."

"Or she could be ignoring me," Mohinder grumbled, resting his head in his hands. "I did wait a long time to tell her about this."

"That's not your fault," he said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You were scared and confused and didn't know how to handle this situation. Besides, she's your mom. She loves you."

The geneticist frowned. He hated being treated like this. Even if Peter meant well, it still got under his skin to be pitied and coddled like a child. "Don't you have other patients to take care of?" Mohinder asked, trying not to make his words sound too harsh since he knew that Peter was only doing his job as a nurse and a friend.

"Yeah, but I got a few of the other nurses to cover them for me," he explained giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You need me here, right?"

Mohinder was about to say something, about to ask if Peter had used his telepathy to convince the other staff members to do his work for him, but his words were cut off by another contraction. "Oh gods," he gasped, reaching out to grasp something, but instead turning his fingers to the sheets that were wrapped around his body. His back arched, his eyes screw shut, and his mouth flew open in a silent scream. This one felt much stronger than the others. It felt as if someone were punching him from the inside.

"It's okay Mohinder," Peter soothed, grabbing his friend's shoulder and arm in his reassuring hands. "Just breathe. Come on, slow breaths. We're going to get through this."

The Indian man, moaned, gasped, and struggled to take in slow breaths to relax his body and calm the fire burning in his stomach.

"That's good," his friend said, running a hand through his hair. "You're doing good."

"Gods! I need an epidural," he breathed once the pain had subsided enough for him to think again. "Is there an anestiologist nearby?"

The younger man laughed, giving his arm a slight squeeze before getting up from his seat, grabbing his chart and stethoscope. "I'll go see if I can find someone to help you out," he assured him. "Just remember; stay calm and take slow breaths."

Mohinder nodded as his friend slipped out of his room. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his bed, rubbing soothing circles into his stomach and praying silently for his baby's health.

**June 15, 2007 - 9:05 PM**

The soft sound of water pattering against the window was the first thing that greeted Mohinder's ears. His eyes fluttered open slowly, catching the warm red numbers on the clock beside his head that read 9:05 before he flipped over to his side. His mind was still working in slow motion and it took him a while to grasp the fact that he was sleeping in a bed, in a motel room, instead of the car he had previously woken up in.

The cotton taste still clung to his mouth and his limbs were still sluggish with sleep, even as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the creaky motel room bed. As he rested his back against the head board, he found his lids slipping shut again and his head bobbing against his chest as his mind tried to pull him back into the world of sleep.

"Hey, wake up," a voice called out to him. "You haven't eaten in a long time. You gotta get something into your stomach."

He forced himself awake only to see the brown haired man who had been in the car with him now sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. The stranger's gaze softened as Mohinder's blurry eyes slowly began to focus on his face. "Where am I?" the Indian muttered, rubbing his face roughly.

"You're in a motel room in Canada," he whispered, rubbing his pale fingers against Mohinder's stubble covered cheeks. "You'll be safe here."

Mohinder frowned, pulling himself away from the stranger's touch. He couldn't wrap his head around this man. He risked his life to save him -- him, just him and not any of the other evolved humans trapped in Danko's fortress -- called himself a friend and treated him with such familiarity. Yet Mohinder could not recall ever meeting him before. "Who are you?"

"A friend," he said.

Anger instantly flared inside of the Indian man's stomach at the stranger's cryptic words. "No. Not good enough. Who are you? Tell me."

The stranger sighed, pulling himself backwards slightly as if considering his options and not liking what he got. Mohinder felt his eyes widen and his skin lose its color as he watched the man's body bend and twist, reshaping itself until Sylar was now sitting on the bed with him.

"Oh gods!" Mohinder gasped, scrambling away from the far too familiar face as his heart raced with panic.

"Hey, calm down," Sylar snapped, raising a hand and holding Mohinder in place with his telekinesis. "I just saved your life, remember?"

"Why?" he asked, gritting his teeth as he struggled against the invisible binds. "What's going on? How did you even know I was in Building 26?"

"I'll answer your questions later," he sighed, running a hand over his slicked back hair. "Right now, I want you to eat something for me."

"No!" he shouted. "No, I want answers. Right now."

Sylar frowned, tightening his jaw in displeasure before pushing himself off the bed and retreating to the other end of the room.

**December 29, 2007 - 2:02 PM**

His phone started vibrating before Peter could find the anestiologist, but hearing his mother's voice was as soothing as any sedative. 'Hello? Mohinder?' his mother's panicked voice came, slipping into their native tongue in her worried state. 'Are you alright? Have you had the baby yet?'

'Not yet Mother,' he assured her.

'When did your contractions start?'

'At about ten o'clock this morning.'

'And you haven't had surgery yet?' The Indian woman clucked her tongue and Mohinder could practically hear her shaking her head the way she always did when she was upset. 'Tell me you've at least been given an epidural.'

The geneticist cringed at her words, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. He knew it wasn't his fault that things were progressing so slowly, but the fact that his mother was in a state of worry did not sit well with him. The last thing he wanted was to trouble the poor woman. 'Not yet,' he admitted. 'My nurse friend, Peter, is trying to find someone for me, but-'

'You poor thing,' she crooned, cutting him off before he could even finish his thought. 'How do the contractions feel? Are you in a lot of pain?'

'They're not so bad,' he lied. In truth, the pain was intensifying by the minute. He had to wonder if Peter's suggestion that the anxiety was the cause of his troubles was true, but he doubted it. After all, he was about to give birth with no birth canal. His baby was basically just pressing down on his organs and struggling to break free.

Their conversation was interrupted when a blonde woman in a white lab coat appeared in his door. She smiled politely, waving at him and Mohinder knew right away that she was the doctor Peter had told him about.

'I have to go, Mother. My doctor is here.'

'Alright, but call me right back. I will stay awake until the baby is born.'

'Don't do that Mother. You need your rest. I'll be just fine.'

'A mother cannot sleep knowing her child is in pain,' she chided. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of her decision. After all, he had inherited his stubborn nature from her, not his father as many assumed. 'I will be waiting.'

'Alright,' he relented. 'Goodbye Mother.'

'Goodbye Mohinder.'

He clicked the end call button and turned to give the young doctor his full attention. "Doctor Suresh?" she began, using her hands to sign along with her words. He knew then that the woman was hearing impaired. "How are you feeling?"

"Did Peter send you here Doctor...?"

"Coolidge," she finished, tapping the name stitched into her coat pocket. "Yes, he did. Sorry to keep you waiting."

He gave her a tight smile as she closed the door behind her. "Can I assume that you're 'special' as well?"

Dr. Coolidge nodded. "I can see sounds," she told him.

Mohinder raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her words, his natural curiosity taking over him. "That's... extraordinary."

She gave him a shy smile, her fingers tightening around her clipboard as she pressed it against her chest. "It was a bit frightening at first," she began, a slight note of nervousness present in her tone, "but Peter helped me to... accept it."

He smiled at her words. Peter certainly did have a way of connecting with people.

"So, how long ago was your last contraction?" she asked, drawing Mohinder's mind back into the situation at hand.

"Not long," he told her. "About a minute or two."

Dr. Coolidge nodded, writing something down very quickly on her clipboard before raising her eyes to look at him again. "And how far apart are they coming?"

"About every fifteen minutes," he said.

She gave him another quick nod, placing her chart down before approaching the foot of his bed. "I just want to check your progress," she told him as she rolled up his sheets. Mohinder gasped and squirmed as she pressed her cold hands against his burning hot flesh. He watched as she frowned, pressing into his belly, trying to get a feel for where his child was and what position it was in. "Do you feel that pressure?" Dr. Coolidge began, squeezing lightly on his lower abdomen. "That's your baby's head. Normally, I would be checking to see how dilated you were, but since you don't have those... _parts_ your baby is pressing down on your organs and trying to find a way out. If this keeps going, the baby might get caught and hurt itself.

"There's a surgical slot at about three o'clock. We'll perform a C-section then. The surgeon will make an incision along your bladder and pull the baby out. The process is very quick and the rest of the surgery will be spent sewing you back up."

Mohinder nodded along, allowing the woman to speak. He already knew the process and what it would involve, but his stomach still did back flips at the idea of being sliced open and having a part of him ripped out. It was the best thing for his baby, of that he was certain, but it still set him on edge.

**June 15, 2007 - 9:25 PM**

Mohinder frowned, thumbing through the manila folder Sylar had placed in his lap. His eyes widened when he opened the file and saw his entire life spread out before his eyes. Everything from his dental records to his application for citizenship was sandwiched between the sand colored folder.

"What is this?" Mohinder asked, pulling out what looked like a copy of his teaching degree.

"It's your file from Building 26," Sylar told him leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"How did you get all this?" he whispered, finding a picture of himself from when he was only twelve years old.

"Let's just say I was doing an 'inside job'," Sylar shrugged.

Mohinder felt his frown deepen as he continued to flip through the papers that seemed to chronicle his entire life. "I don't understand," he began. "What does this have to do with...?" His words faded away when his eyes landed on a document that looked far too recent.

"Danko's men were doing experiments on you," the serial killer explained, noticing the document that Mohinder was now holding in his hands, gazing at it as if he had been waiting the entire time for the other man to retrieve that piece of paper. "They also took blood samples and found-"

"Human chorionic gonadotropin?" Mohinder read; his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes passed over the words again and again.

"Yeah," Sylar sighed, slightly annoyed at being interrupted.

If Sylar kept talking, Mohinder didn't notice. All he heard was the sound of his heart beating and his blood churning as his stomach tied itself into knots. If there were large quantizes of human chorionic gonadotropin present in his blood then there was a good possibility that he was... No. Pregnant? He was pregnant? How could that be possible? This wasn't... He wasn't...

The paper slipped out of his numb fingers as the world faded into darkness.

**December 29, 2007 - 2:25 PM**

The geneticist grunted, curling into himself as he was hit by another painful contraction. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together as fire spread through the lower half of his stomach. As awful as he felt, Mohinder had to wonder how his unborn child felt. He couldn't help fearing the worst. Dr. Coolidge's words were still a presence in his mind and it made his skin crawl knowing that the longer he waited, the greater the danger for his child would be.

The Indian man let out a long breath as the contraction subsided.

It had been almost an hour since he had last seen Peter and he had to wonder where the young man was. Obviously he had not been able to avoid treating other patience and was most likely taking care of someone else.

He stiffened when he heard someone softly rapping on the frame of his door. The geneticist hoped that it was Peter or someone who could administer an epidural. Mohinder grunted, shifting himself in his bed to face the new comer.

The color drained from his face when he saw Sylar's dark figure standing in the doorway instead.


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, AU, Mpreg, Spoilers for Vol 4, Mild spoilers for Vol 5 (Just be sure you know who Emma is)

**June 15, 2007 - 10:00 PM**

Mohinder grunted as Sylar shook him awake. "Wake up," the serial killer ordered. "Stay with me, Suresh."

His blurry eyes slowly began to focus on the situation and he soon discovered, much to his dismay, that Sylar was currently cradling his limp body in his arms like one would a child. Mohinder scowled, and pushed himself out of Sylar's grasp, mildly surprised that the murderer allowed him to do so. "I don't believe this," Mohinder breathed.

"Don't feel embarrassed," Sylar assured him. "You were surprised and still recovering from the sedatives, its natural-"

"Not that," he cut in. "I don't believe..." His words faded away as he paused to search for the folder that he had been looking through before he had blacked out. "_This_!" he finished, snatching the blood test from Building 26 and waving in Sylar s face. "I don't believe it. You made it up."

Sylar looked positively appalled at the accusation. "Why would I make up something so ridiculous?"

"Because you're insane!" Mohinder shot back. "You could easily have doctored this."

"And found all this information on you?" he snapped. "Your driver's license? Your birth certificate? Your _high school diploma_?"

Mohinder rolled his eyes at Sylar's words. He wouldn't put it past the man to dig so deeply into his past just for his own sick amusement. "Do I need to restate my insanity argument?" he asked bitterly.

"Linea nigra."

The geneticist blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt statement. "What?"

"Linea nigra," Sylar repeated. "It's a dark line that appears from your naval to your pubic region caused by increased estrogen."

"I _know_ what linea nigra is," Mohinder seethed.

"Then look at your stomach."

Mohinder scowled. He didn't have to lift his shirt to know that Sylar was right. He had noticed the strange line on his abdomen a few weeks ago, but had not paid much attention to it. Now just thinking of its presence made his blood run cold. He had to be at least three months along for his pregnancy to suddenly be visible.

"Shit."

Sylar chuckled softly, shifting himself so that they were sitting closer together. "Yeah."

"That still doesn't explain it," Mohinder whispered, turning his confused eyes towards the serial killer. "Why did you save me?"

"Because I... it's my baby, isn't it?"

**December 29, 2007 - 2:27 PM**

Mohinder shuddered, pressing himself flat against his hospital bed as he took in Sylar's appearance. The man was dressed from head to toe in his usual black attire, but he did not look nearly as menacing as usual with a bouquet of yellow roses and a teddy bear in his arms.

"What are you doing here?" the geneticist whispered. There was really no use in shouting. It would only draw in unnecessary attention and cause innocent people to get hurt. Furthermore, the only other two evolved humans in the hospital -- that he knew of -- were a telepathic nurse and a doctor who could see sounds. Neither would be very useful against Sylar's arsenal of abilities.

"I came to see you," Sylar said simply, raising the teddy bear as if it were his clearance to enter. "I'm not going to miss my baby being born."

"It's not your baby," Mohinder seethed even as Sylar took a step towards him, shutting the door with his telekinesis.

Sylar sighed, rolling his eyes wearily at the Indian man's statement. "Go ahead Mohinder, keep lying to me. You keep singing that same old song. If it isn't 'you killed my father,' it's 'this isn't your baby.'"

"It _isn't_," he hissed. "It's mine, _my_ baby, and I don't want you anywhere near me or it, so get the hell out of here!"

The serial killer's eyes darkened and for a moment, Mohinder thought the other man was going to use his telekinesis on him, yet he didn't. "If you weren't pregnant," he growled.

"What? You'd beat me with your flowers?"

Sylar stiffened, placing the bouquet on a hospital tray before pulling up a chair and sitting by Mohinder's bed side. If this had been any other situation, the geneticist would have laughed hysterically at the way the other man was sitting with the stuffed bear cradled between his legs. "I'm trying," Sylar said testily. "And _I'm_ the one who should be mad at _you_! You left me when I needed you most, just like a Suresh."

"Yes, me walking out on you is _far worse_ than all the little things you've done to me!" Mohinder snapped sarcastically.

"I saved your life," he shot back.

"Because you wanted something from me!"

"That's a bullshit answer and you know it!" Sylar growled, reaching over and grasping Mohinder's biceps in his vice like grasp. "You know me better than that Mohinder. You know I came for you because I lo-"

"Oh gods!" Mohinder gasped, cringing as he was suddenly slammed with another contraction. He hissed, reaching out and grabbing Sylar's arm in his hands before the other man could even think to pull away.

"What's going on?" the serial killer asked, mild panic in his voice.

Mohinder couldn't think straight enough to form a coherent thought. Instead, he just sat there, moaning in pain and digging his fingers into Sylar's arm. He heard the man above him howl in pain as his bones started to crack and his flesh ripped apart under Mohinder's grip.

"Is this making a difference?" Sylar asked through gritted teeth, his eyes darting back and forth between Mohinder's reddened face to his shattering appendage. "Break it Mohinder. Break my arm. Come on. I know you want to. Do it! It'll make you feel better."

The geneticist had to wonder whether or not the serial killer was being serious, but he decided to play along. Who was he to pass up an opportunity like this? With a massive grunt, his hands tightened and twisted against Sylar's skin. A sickening crack echoed through the hospital room. The serial killer had to bite into his other arm just to keep himself from screaming out against the pain.

Mohinder huffed, collapsing against the soft mattress, boneless and completely worn out. "That better have been a real contraction," Sylar grunted, his mouth and arms covered with blood as his body began to heal itself.

"It was," Mohinder assured him.

Silence feel between the two as Sylar got up to try to find something to wipe the blood off of him. "How long have you been here?"

"Since noon," he breathed.

Sylar turned and frowned curiously at his words. "Noon?" he repeated. "Why aren't you in surgery yet?"

"Soon," he assured him, reaching over to grasp his cell phone, reading the time with tired eyes. "Soon."

**June 15, 2007 - 10:05 PM**

Mohinder turned away from him and cringed, pressing his dark hands to his stomach and closing his eyes against the harsh truth. _Shit._ It was, unfortunately, true. This baby couldn't have been fathered by anyone else except Sylar. The murderer was the last man he had slept with. It was bad enough to know that he had had sex with the serial killer, now he had this physical reminder growing inside of him. "What makes you think that?" he asked instead, purposely avoiding the question.

"Because the time adds up," he said simply. "We made love in your lab at Pinehearst back in-"

"I remember, I remember," Mohinder cut in. His stomach was churning enough as it was, he didn't need to hear Sylar refer to them fucking as "making love." "But that doesn't automatically mean this is your baby. There were others."

"That's a lie."

Mohinder turned and gave Sylar a sour look. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"That you're lying," he replied flatly. "It's a new trick I picked up. I can tell when you lie and that was a lie. This _is_ my baby."

Mohinder shuddered, the words burning his insides and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "No. No it isn't."

"Mohinder-"

"What do you want from me?"

The serial killer sighed, pushing his hair back as he silently gathered his thoughts. "I got this new ability," he explained. "Shape shifting. I was using it for my new position at Building 26, but... I was getting overwhelmed by it. I started to lose myself. Someone suggested that I get an 'anchor', something that's mine that I could hold onto."

The Indian man felt his face lose its color as he listened to the other man's story. "Don't tell me," he began grimly. "Am _I_ your 'anchor'?"

Sylar nodded, wrapping his arm around the smaller man's shoulder and pressing them together. "That's right," he said, grasping Mohinder's hand in his and placing a tender kiss to the geneticist's wrist. "All you have to do is keep me Sylar and I'll keep you and our baby safe from the government. Fair trade, right?"

Mohinder frowned, pulling his hand free and slapping Sylar across the face. The serial killer's head twisted so quickly that Mohinder actually heard the bones snap. "You're insane," he hissed. "I'm not going to stay here with you! Why should I help you? The world will be better off if you forgot who you were!"

He stiffened as he watched Sylar twist his head back into place, issuing yet another sickening pop before the bones began to mend themselves. "You really don't have a choice, Mohinder," Sylar chided. "You leave my side and Danko's men _will_ come get you."

"We're in Canada!" Mohinder shot back. "He has no power here."

"Tell that to Hiro Nakamura," Sylar pointed out. "He was in _Japan_ when they captured him."

Mohinder winced at Sylar's words. Whether he liked it or not, the other man made a good point. His powers weren't of much use against the tasers and drugs that the government used to sedate him and other Specials, and now he had this child to think of. It seemed as if he was going to be stuck with Sylar for quite some time.

**December 29, 2007 - 2:50 PM**

Mohinder could breathe easier now that he had finally been administered his epidural. He felt better, but not perfect. There was still the same pressure on his lower half and although it was not coupled with a blinding, intense pain, it still worried him. He no longer had any anxiety at the prospect of surgery. He just wanted to get his child out of him so that he could know that the baby was safe.

"Do you want me to rub your back?" Sylar asked, pulling his chair closer to Mohinder's bedside.

The Indian man sighed, closing his eyes and pretending that he was alone in his hospital room. He stayed silent for a while, curled up in a tight ball as he clutched at his pillow and waited for three o'clock. Yet Sylar must have mistaken his silence for approval as the serial killer suddenly reached out and began messaging his tender flesh.

"Please stop," Mohinder grumbled, ignoring the way his tense muscles relaxed under Sylar's skillful hands.

"Do you want me to go lower?"

He rolled his eyes at the serial killer's question. The man would not take no for an answer. "I'd like you to leave," he snapped, only to find Sylar's hands traveling lower. "This isn't winning you any points."

"I know," he sighed, rubbing at a particularly tender area. "I just want to make this easier for you."

"That's a first," the Indian grumbled just as a soft knock came on the door.

"Dr. Suresh?" Dr. Coolidge's hesitant voice came. Mohinder grunted, shifting himself carefully so that he was once again lying on his back. His stomach dropped when he took in the apologetic look on the young doctor's face. "I'm afraid we have a problem."

The Indian man said nothing, he merely sat there and waited for her to speak, irritated when he felt Sylar's hand slip into his.

"I'm afraid your spot has been taken," she told him. "There was an accident and it looks like we won't be able to fit you in until at least six."

"_Six_!" Sylar snapped, giving Mohinder's hand a reassuring squeeze. Dr. Coolidge jumped at Sylar's words. She may not have been able to hear him, but she very clearly saw the furious look in his cold brown eyes. "You've got to be kidding me! He's been here since this morning and you're pushing him back even later?"

"Sylar," Mohinder hissed, a warning clear in his tone as he pulled his hand out of the other man's grasp.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Coolidge began hesitantly, "are you his boyfriend?"

"No!" Mohinder cried out, just as Sylar gave a very calm "Yes."

Sylar frowned, rolling his eyes as if Mohinder were the one behaving like a stubborn child. "I'm the father," the murderer explained.

"The _other_ father," Mohinder clarified.

Dr. Coolidge nodded her head slowly. The lost look on her face made it obvious that she did not completely understand their situation, but clearly was not willing to sit and watch the two continue to bicker back and forth. "Well, I'm sorry, but there really isn't anything that I can do."

It was then that Peter decided to reappear, one hand holding his clipboard while the other fingered with the end of his stethoscope. "Hey, Emma I-" His words were instantly cut off when his eyes locked with Sylar's. The young nurse stiffened before grabbing the blonde doctor's slim shoulders in his hands and pulling her away. "Sylar," he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

The serial killer flashed the other man an amused smile, grabbing Mohinder's hand in his once again. "Just came to see my baby being born," he grinned, caressing Mohinder's hand with the pad of his thumb.

**June 16 - July 6, 2007**

Mohinder would have liked to consider their situation one that had been established purely out of convince -- Sylar gave him protection from Danko's men while the murderer gained an "anchor", something to tie him to his true identity -- but the geneticist knew that the serial killer saw their dynamic as something much deeper than that.

Things had started off badly in their awkwardness and then progressively got worse.

They butted heads of course, it was only natural when dealing with the man who had murdered your father, but the first few weeks were surprisingly mild. Sylar "took care of him" by changing locations and vehicles constantly and making sure Mohinder had enough to eat and plenty of sleep, but the geneticist found himself lacking in his end of the bargain.

Sylar seemed to have his usually eerie control over all his abilities during the day, but at night, when his body and mind were in a relaxed state, the serial killer lost control. Their first few mornings together, Mohinder was startled to wake up and find the face of the stranger who had rescued him from Building 26 resting peacefully beside him. More horrifying than that were the times Mohinder woke up to find Sylar had transformed into an eerily accurate replica of himself.

"Look, obviously you're having some sort of identity crisis," Mohinder had blurted out one morning, after the first time Sylar had unconsciously shifted into the geneticist's form, "and just having me around is not helping you. You need to try getting back to your old self. Did you have any hobbies? Ones that don't include dismembering innocent people?"

Mohinder had remembered the way Sylar had shifted awkwardly under his gaze, the faintest hints of a blush coloring his pale cheeks. "You'd think it's stupid," he'd grumbled sheepishly.

"Sylar, I could not possibly, in every sense of the word, _care_ any _less_ about what you used to do in your free time! Even if your hobby used to be chronic masturbation I would not care."

Sylar had scowled, his blush quickly melting away into a look of annoyance as he stared into the slightly shorter man's deep brown eyes. "I... I restored timepieces."

Mohinder blinked, staring at the man's face for several minutes and wondering whether or not he was being serious. "Watches?"

"Timepieces," Sylar corrected firmly. "It's what I used to do for a living."

The geneticist wrinkled his nose in distaste at the statement. "You were a watchmaker that fixed clocks as a hobby?" He shook his head, processing the information carefully. "That has got to be the saddest thing I've ever heard."

So they bought Sylar the tools and equipment he would need and he began "restoring timepieces" again. Sylar also decided to take things a small step further by cutting his hair to the length Mohinder remembered it being just a few months ago. After less than a week of this bizarre brand of therapy, Sylar eventually found himself able to keep control of his abilities in his conscious and unconscious state. Yet after Sylar "fixed" himself, Mohinder's problems only seemed to increase.

Sylar suddenly found himself mentally stable enough to go back to killing people for their abilities.

"This wasn't part of our deal," Mohinder snapped. "You never said anything about collecting abilities!"

"And I never said I wouldn't," Sylar shot back, a smug smile spreading across his face.

Mohinder scowled, his jaw set tightly and his fists clenching at his side. "Well I won't sit back and watch you kill innocent people," he announced, brushing past the serial killer and heading towards the door. "Your powers are under control again. You don't need me anymore."

"But you need _me_," Sylar reminded him, grabbing the Indian man by his upper arm and holding him in place. "You're a wanted man, Mohinder. You can't just go off on your merry way and expect the world to be okay."

"I'm strong," he sneered, attempting to pull his arm free, but the combination of Sylar's vice like grip and his telekinetic hold was too much to fight against. "I can protect myself and my baby."

"Did that really help you the first time around? Or the second?" Sylar clutched his tongue, pressing his pale hand against Mohinder's still flat stomach. "Your head strong nature has always been one of your most fascinating qualities, Dr. Suresh, but you need to think carefully, not just about yourself, but the little one as well."

The geneticist felt his frown deepen as he considered the other man's words. A part of him knew that he wasn't strong enough to face off against Danko's men if they were to attack him again, but he couldn't just sit around and watch as Sylar killed for his own sick enjoyment. He couldn't be expected to choose between the life of his unborn child and the lives of so many innocents. "I... I can't. I can't do this."

"You won't be doing anything," Sylar reminded him reaching out with his free hand to trace the Indian man's strong jaw with the tips of his fingers. "I'll be the one taking abilities. All you have to do is stay alive for our baby."

"Sitting back and doing nothing as you go about killing these people is just as bad as taking a knife and slitting their throats myself. I won't-"

"Suresh," Sylar cut in, silencing the other man by sliding his thumb along his trembling bottom lip, "You can fight and you can struggle all you want, but it'll all be for nothing. You're gonna give into me sooner or later. Now why don't you just shut off that beautiful mind of yours, just this once, and let me take care of you."

Mohinder opened his mouth to say something, but his words died on his tongue when Sylar pressed their lips together in a searing hot kiss.

**December 29, 2007 - 3:34 PM**

'Three more hours?' His mother paused, sighing wearily into the mouth piece as she took in his words. 'What sort of hospital is this?'

'It can't be helped, Mother,' Mohinder cut in, even as panicked tears threatened to fill his eyes. 'There was an accident and the OR is full. What can I do?'

'Speak to someone,' the woman insisted.

'It's not that simple,' he sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Sylar's curious face before turning back towards the opposite wall. 'I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm an unusual case, remember? If someone were to find out that there was a pregnant man in the building-'

'What about your friends?' she cut in. 'Are they helping you?'

'They are trying,' he shrugged.

"Mohinder?" Sylar began, pressing a hand to the Indian man's shoulder only to have it shrugged off. "Do you want me to get you anything? Water, maybe?"

Mohinder frowned, placing his hand over his phone's mouthpiece as he turned to glare over his shoulder at the concerned serial killer. "No, and you are not leaving this room," he snapped. 'I'm sorry, Mother. What were you saying?'

'I said, you should have gone to a different hospital.'

The geneticist groaned, rubbing at his face wearily. His mother wasn't usually this fussy, except in tense situations. It only served to put him even more on edge as he struggled to calm her fears as well as his own. 'Well I wasn't exactly rich with options.'

'You could have come back to India,' she told him.

Mohinder fell silent, allowing the guilt to eat away at him at the woman's comment. 'I wish I had,' he told her sincerely. He wished that his mother's warm smile would be one of the first sights his child could be treated to, he wished that he were in his homeland among family and friends, and he wished that there was an entire ocean between him and Sylar.

"Mohinder?" The geneticist turned to see Peter standing in the doorway to his room an eager look in his eyes. "Can I talk to you?"

He nodded his head quickly before turning his attention back to his phone call. 'I have to go, Mother,' he said quickly. 'I'll call you tomorrow. Get some rest.'

'No, I will wait until my grandchild is born,' she reminded him stubbornly.

He sighed, rolling his eyes at her comment yet loving her for her devotion. 'Alright then, have it your way. Goodbye Mother.'

'Goodbye my love.'

The geneticist sighed, ending the call and turning his attention back to Peter's earnest face. "I've got good news," Peter declared stepping into the room and pointedly avoiding Sylar's gaze. "We found an opening for you."

"Thank God!" Mohinder breathed, rubbing soothing circles into his stomach.

"You'll be going into surgery in less than an hour," he assured him.

"I want to go in with him."

Peter flinched and Mohinder stiffened at Sylar's words. The two men looked back and forth between each other before staring awkwardly at Sylar's startlingly sincere face. "Sylar... I," Peter began hesitantly, brushing his brown hair out of his eyes. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he snapped, reaching over to grasp Mohinder's shoulder. "I'm the father. This is my right."

"Listen," the nurse sighed, "all personal feelings aside, I _still_ don't think it's a good idea. This is a complicated procedure and it's the first time it'll be performed on a man. If something goes wrong with either Mohinder or the baby, you're just going to be in the way and it'll slow things down."

"If something goes wrong my _blood_ could save his life," he pointed out. "Besides, do you really think _you_ can stop me from seeing my baby being born?"

"Sylar, _I_ don't want you in the operating room with me," Mohinder sighed, shrugging off the other man's gentle touch.

The pale man let out an exasperated huffed, turning his attention back to Mohinder and staring at him intensely. "You owe me this Mohinder," Sylar whispered. "I've given you so much-"

"I don't owe you anything," he cut in. "Don't think that because you got me pregnant that I'm suddenly in your debt."

"I saved your life," he reminded him. "I saved our baby's life. I took you in and took care of you when you had no one else to turn to. God, I _kill_ myself for you, Mohinder, yet you still treat me like dirt. Why can't you just get it through your thick head that I lo-"

"You're a monster and a killer and you murdered my father!" he barked. "I don't like you and I don't want you anywhere near me or my child! Why can't _you_ get the hint and just leave me alone?"

A hurt look flashed over Sylar's face for the briefest moment before being replaced by a dark look of hate. He stood up quickly, knocking over the chair he had been sitting in, before turning on his heels and storming out the door.

**August 15, 2007 - 3:17 AM**

Sylar had called this their two month anniversary and that was probably what had pushed Mohinder over the edge. These past few months had been emotionally draining to say the least. He found himself learning more about Sylar than he had ever wanted to know. He discovered that Sylar was organized to the point of compulsion, always putting everything in its "proper place" and having a fit when things were moved. He discovered that Sylar could very easily multitask with his telekinesis, a technique he demonstrated by hold Mohinder's body frozen in place while he pinned one of his victims down and sliced their head open. He also found that Sylar liked to spoon. They often fell asleep, Mohinder lying with his back pressed against Sylar's chest as the serial killer held him tight and stroked his growing stomach with tired fingers.

"I can't wait for you to get bigger," Sylar would whisper to him every night. "I can't wait to see you big and pregnant and all mine."

Mohinder hated the familiarity, he hated the way he was slowly growing used to the sight of blood and the sound of helpless screams, and he hated the way he forced himself to justify it all as the only way he could protect his child. Yet that night, when Sylar had whispered in his ears that tomorrow they would "celebrate" two months of being together, Mohinder snapped.

A tight ball formed in the pit of his stomach, disgusted that it had taken him so long to finally build up the courage to sneak away from his captor, but he did it. Mohinder knew he didn't have to worry about Sylar hearing him, his heightened hearing had been lost a long time ago, and escape was surprisingly easy. He took nothing with him, since he had nothing in the first place, and he ran as far as he could for as long as he could. The sun was just barely peaking over the horizon when he decided to take a break.

He slipped behind a gas station, intending to only rest for a little while, when his eyes caught the sight of a pay phone less than a foot away. He grasped the phone and quickly punched in what he hoped was the right number and held his breath, praying that the other line would be picked up.

"Hello?" a familiar voice, thick with sleep and struggling to hold back a yawn, answered and Mohinder's heart leapt in his chest.

"Peter? Please. Don't hang up."

There was the faint sound of cloth rustling as the young man on the other line straightened himself, shifting the phone from one hand to the other before speaking again. "Mohinder?"

"Peter... I think I'm in trouble."

**December 29, 2007 - 6:33 PM**

'It's a boy, Mother,' Mohinder announced proudly, gazing down lovingly at the sand colored bundle resting peacefully in his lap. The baby gurgled, suckling on his tiny digits and scrunching his nose up in his dream like state. 'Ten inches long. Six pounds, thirteen ounces.'

'Oh! So tiny!' his mother cooed and for a moment, he felt as if she could see the infant perfectly from his vague description alone. 'What are you going to call him?'

'I haven't quite decided,' he told her, resting the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could use his free hand to rub the tips of his fingers against the infant's soft skin.

'Chandra, perhaps?' his mother teased, and Mohinder laughed quietly, suddenly afraid that he would disturb his child.

'Perhaps,' he agreed, rocking the tiny creature in his weary arms. 'Are you going to tell Molly the good news?'

'Of course,' she said, a smile clear in her voice. 'And will you be coming back home or should I buy a plane ticket to New York.'

'No need, Mother. The first chance I get, I'll buy a ticket to India and you'll see so much of me and your grandson that you'll be sick of us!' The Indian man's smile widened when the newborn pulled his fingers out of his mouth and attempted to grab Mohinder's thick digits.

'That'll never happen!' she laughed. 'Well, I will let you get some rest. You're going to need it. Kiss my grandson goodnight for me.'

'Of course,' he chuckled. 'Goodnight, Grandma.'

'Goodnight, Father,' she teased before hanging up.

Mohinder felt his insides warm, letting the strange new word sink in. Father. He was a father. His smile widened further as he placed his cell phone on his side table, and began humming a lullaby to the newborn babe.

"Knock, knock," Peter teased as he entered his hospital room. "How are you feeling?"

Mohinder looked up to see the young nurse wearing a khaki colored jacket over his navy blue scrubs. "Tired," Mohinder answered truthfully. "And in love. I never could have imagined anything so perfect and beautiful."

Peter smiled, approaching the new father and his child cautiously. "A boy or a girl?"

"Boy."

The younger man nodded, his smile widening as he took in the sight before him. "He is adorable," he beamed, kissing the infant's round cheek. "And he looks just like you."

The geneticist laughed, grasping a tiny hand between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't think so," he whispered, although he had to admit that there was already a strong resemblance. It wasn't just the baby's dark skin or soft black curls that mimicked his own, there were other, little things that seemed to be showing more and more as he gazed down at his child. "Are you leaving?" he asked, glancing at the nurse's coat and shoulder bag.

"Yeah," he shrugged, pulling himself to stand up straight. "I'm gonna take Emma home, then I'll be back in the morning for another eight hour shift. Give or take."

Mohinder nodded. "You and Dr. Coolidge, Emma... are you two-"

"No," Peter cut in quickly. "We're just friends."

"Oh." Mohinder blushed slightly at his mistake. "Is there... someone else?"

"Occasionally," he smirked, a secret twinkling in his dark brown eyes. "He pops in and out once in a while. But, uh, hey. I'll see you in the morning, bright and early."

"Alright. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Peter smiled back. "Get some sleep."

Mohinder nodded as his eyes drifted back towards the little bundle in his arms. The baby had drifted back off to sleep, but Mohinder could not follow him. Even as sleep tugged at his weary mind, he fought against it, determined to stay awake to watch over his sleeping child.

"Can I come in?"

The Indian man frowned, looking up to see Sylar already half way into his hospital room, an unreadable look on his face as he gripped the door knob tightly in his large white hands. Mohinder shrugged, but said nothing. There wasn't much he could do to stop him anyway.

Realizing that this was as close to an invitation as he was going to get, Sylar slipped inside, stepping lightly so as not to disturb the sleeping baby. "Is that him?" he asked, pulling up a seat beside him.

"No. My baby's still in the nursery. I just borrowed this one for awhile."

Sylar ignored his words as he gazed down at the child sleeping in his arms. Mohinder felt his stomach tightened and his heart beat quicken when he noticed the intense gaze Sylar had pinned on his child. The look made him feel sick and nervous all at once. "He's so beautiful," the serial killer whispered dreamily. "He looks just like you."

He nodded, pulling the child away on reflex when Sylar reached out to touch the newborn's cheek. "But you already knew that."

Sylar frowned, cocking his head slightly and giving the geneticist a quizzical look. "What?"

"You were in the operating room with me," he concluded.

"How did you-"

"When you walked in here, you instantly knew that the baby was a boy," he clarified. "You were the nurse who held my hand and told me everything would be alright. I knew it was you right away." He sighed, shaking his head wearily at the memory. "You never listen."

"Neither do you," Sylar shot back.

The small hospital room slipped into an uncomfortable silence as the two men gazed down at the child they had created in a moment of passion, neither one of them knowing what to say to each other.

"Can I hold him?" Sylar asked, breaking the sudden silence. "You're falling asleep as it is, just... please let me hold him."

Mohinder heaved a reluctant sigh as he passed the sleeping child over to the other man. "Watch his head," he whispered, anxiously watching the baby as Sylar held him in his stiff, awkward arms. "Be careful with him."

"I will, I will," the serial killer whispered back, slowly settling into an easy position. "Hey there cutie." Mohinder cringed as the murderer cooed and made faces at the sleeping infant. He really wanted to forget this moment, but he knew it'd be burned into his head for a long time. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Not yet."

Sylar snorted, his eyes never leaving the baby. "That's a lie. You already know exactly what you're going to call him. You just don't want to tell me."

Mohinder said nothing, he merely sat there watching the other man even as his head bobbed and his eyes threatened to slip shut. "I'm not sorry about what I said before," he said suddenly, hoping that talking would help to keep him awake. "I meant it then, and I still do now. But I will admit that you being here today was... helpful. Waiting by myself would have been terrible. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sylar said. They fell silent once again and for a moment Mohinder thought he was going to drift off, but Sylar's words brought him back to the waking world. "So what happens now?"

The Indian man sighed, stretching himself out in hopes of waking himself up a bit. "I'm going to stay in New York for a little while and then the baby and I will be moving back to India to live with my mother and Molly."

The American turned and gave him a hurt look, his dark brown eyes begging him to take back his words. "You're taking him away from me? Again?"

"I'm sorry," Mohinder said automatically, then thought better of it. "No. I'm not sorry. You're a horrible person and you'd make a terrible father. You killed my father -- his grandfather -- and I don't want my baby growing up around someone like you. This is the way things have to be."

Sylar scowled. "This isn't fair. You know that I'm in love..."

The serial killer kept talking, but his words soon turned to muffled white noise in Mohinder's ears. The need for sleep became too much for him to fight against and he quickly found his body going limp against his mattress and the world fading away before his eyes.

**March 24, 2007 - 2:14 PM**

Sylar heaved a pleasant sigh as he lay on the cold floor of Mohinder's lab, his skin flushed and tingling as he worked to catch his breath. He had never felt so relaxed, so complete in his entire life and it was all because of the beautiful man lying next to him.

"Well," he huffed, turning over to gaze at Mohinder's back dreamily. "That was unexpected."

The Indian man didn't answer. He just laid still, his breathing labored and far too loud for Sylar's liking. It was only then that he noticed the series of scales trailing up and down Mohinder's exposed flesh, cringing slightly at the sight of them. They were smooth to the touch, but were oozing and seemed far more painful than the ones flicked across his face and arms. He had to wonder what state of mind Mohinder had been in to inject himself with a formula that could do something like this to him.

"Mohinder?"

The geneticist curled up tighter, wrapping his arms around his waist miserably as he began coughing, his whole body trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Sylar felt himself stiffen as he listened to the horrible hacking sounds the other man made, his stomach twisting in nervous guilt.

"It's okay Mohinder," he whispered, grabbing the Indian's discarded lab coat and wrapping it around the smaller man's middle. "It's okay. I'm here."

Mohinder said nothing -- and somehow that worried him even more -- as Sylar gathered his trembling body in his arms, cradling his small frame against his chest as the Indian continued to cough and hack. They stayed like that for some time, even after Mohinder's coughing fit subsided, and Sylar realized for the first time how serious the man's situation really was.

The tender moment was suddenly interrupted when his phone began to chime and vibrate. Sylar sighed, rolling his eyes as he used his telekinesis to bring the mobile device to his side. "Hello?"

"Gabriel?" Arthur's irritated tone came from the other line. "You were supposed to meet me in my office five minutes ago."

"Sorry Father," he grumbled, the words tasting so awkward and insincere on his tongue. "I was with Dr. Suresh."

"I can see that." The serial killer frowned, lifting his head and spotting the security camera that was pointed right at their naked bodies. "Now stop messing around and get down here right away."

Sylar rolled his eyes in annoyance as his alleged father hung up on him. "I have to go," he whispered, although from the other man's even breaths, he could tell that Mohinder was already fast asleep. He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to the smaller man's sweat covered forehead. "Don't worry Mohinder. I'll be back. I'm going to take care of you."

**December 29, 2007 - 6:45 PM**

Sylar heaved a tired sigh as he watched Mohinder slump back against the hospital bed, completely drained of all his energy. Mohinder was stubborn and head strong, but he had never seen him look as beautiful as he did in that exact moment. His hair was a mess and there were thick bags under his eyes, but his whole body was glowing with love for their child and his facial muscles were completely relaxed in sleep, giving him a young, innocent appearance.

"Goodnight you stubborn bastard," Sylar murmured bending over to kiss the Indian man's stubble covered cheek.

The baby squirmed and gurgled in protest as he pressed their bodies too close together. He laughed, smiling down at the sand colored infant resting in his arms. "Hey there," he crooned, rocking the newborn back and forth in his arms. "You're a lot prettier now that you're not covered in blood and goo.

"Your Daddy thinks he can take you away from me, but I'll let you in on a secret: the three of us are meant to be together. We're going to be a family, forever and ever." His smile only widened when the infant yawned, and blindly tried to place his fingers back in his mouth.

"Go to sleep," Sylar whispered pressing a kiss to soft black hair.


End file.
